


Purple Prose

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Timeline, F/M, Fluff, Poetry, Post-Scratch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wrote late into the night, fueled by caffeine and fervor. Sleep stole her consciousness before she had a chance to hide her musings. The next morning, Dave is more than willing to indulge his curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Prose

Gently, ever so gently, he slipped the paper out from under her cheek. A pen still rested in her loosely clenched fist. Papers lie scattered at her feet; around the table; under an ice cold cup of coffee. Poor thing, this was the third night in a row.

He peeked under a wave of platinum locks for more literary gems. Her face was crushed to the table. A soft snore was her only reply.

So this was her final paper of the evening. These were always her best, he decided; the ones she’d never let him read. Passing thoughts before the veil of slumber snuffed out her light. Open secrets. She wouldn't keep writing these things she didn't want him to read them, he’d reasoned long ago.

A single sheet? Huh. She wasn’t working on Complacency of the Learned. His interest peaked. He flashed a knowing grin when he read the title, "A Meal Interrupted".

 

> Lascivious and proud
> 
> -his grin ever wider
> 
> Waves from a crowd
> 
> a certain Dave Strider
> 
>  
> 
> Gallivants to my side
> 
> without missing a beat
> 
> A whisper quite snide:
> 
> "May I take a seat?"
> 
>  
> 
> He slides in quite close
> 
> without my consent
> 
> Mulls over my prose
> 
> And I notice his scent
> 
>  
> 
> Ambre Topkapi
> 
> He orders a drink
> 
> Downs my whole coffee
> 
> and throws me a wink
> 
>  
> 
> With a sigh I dismiss
> 
> his childish games
> 
> But something's amiss
> 
> When he coughs and proclaims,
> 
>  
> 
> "So I missed you last night."
> 
> I'm staring him down
> 
> He holds on despite
> 
> his deepening frown
> 
>  
> 
> My resolve finally shatters
> 
> And we talk for awhile
> 
> Not that it matters
> 
> but I finally smile
> 
>  
> 
> \---
> 
>  
> 
> His hands in my hair
> 
> I'm tasting his breath
> 
> Stagnant night air
> 
> has chilled me to death
> 
>  
> 
> I wrap myself 'round him
> 
> Feel the heat of his skin
> 
> My conscious grows dim
> 
> I knew that he'd win
> 
>  
> 
> "It's always  _his_  way,"
> 
> my colleagues had warned me
> 
> I've found that's okay
> 
> And I cling to his body
> 
>  
> 
> \---
> 
>  
> 
> I tell him next morning
> 
> He's one lucky bastard
> 
> He scoffs at my warning
> 
> His dress shirt is plastered
> 
>  
> 
> to my hips and I see
> 
> a glint in his eyes
> 
> "I'm on chapter three."
> 
> I yelp in surprise
> 
>  
> 
> "You're not 'sposed t' read that-"
> 
> I snarl in his ear
> 
> A curious, dead cat.
> 
> "I know that my dear."
> 
>  
> 
> A deep, hearty chuckle
> 
> I cover his mouth
> 
> A hand on my knuckles
> 
> Eyes drifting south
> 
>  
> 
> "Pretty good wizard slash."
> 
> we laugh, playful shove
> 
> Never dull; Always brash
> 
> this man that I love

 

            Dave left quietly, the memory of her cheek on his lips and poem in his pocket. He hushed the door as it closed behind him.

A screenplay rested inches from her nose, along with a note promising he’d never film it.

 

“ _A Meal Interrupted_

 _Screenplay by Dave Strider_ ”

 

He wasn’t the only one to sneak a peak at forbidden writing. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write some Dave/Rose since about Act 2. This wasn't any of the four stories I've been meaning to write, but they may happen someday. Probably not.


End file.
